Kyra punched open the door of her house and stormed into the kitchen. The door hit the wall, and bounced back halfway, slowing it's momentum as it was sure to stop halfway, emitting a raspy, old creak.

Kyra slowly turned her head towards the sound. The creaking was slowly subsiding, the old wooden door defying her wishes, and stopped halfway, seemingly suspended, serene. Kyra hissed, and in one swift motion closed the door. The loud bang reverberated through the room, small dust particles were floating, panicked from the impact.

She turned away from the door, more angry that when she entered, and started pacing mindlessly around the room, her hands clenched into fists. She was thinking, rethinking and replaying the Priestesses words in her head over and over again. " A grand gesture. A public one. A sacrifice...".

She felt her forehead getting hot, and plopped into a chair, rubbing her temples, rocking her torso up and down. He hands found some strands of loose hair on her scalp and started pulling them, mindlessly. She felt waves and waves of heat enveloping started to bubble up inside her chest, making it's way to her throat, forming a painful lump there. " A grand gesture. A public one. A sacrifice..."..."A sacrifice..." "A sacrifice..."

Her mind was empty. She had no solution. She frowned, commanding her brain to invent something, but there was nothing .Only anger resided there, resentment, nothing useful, nothing to grab on... She pulled a strand of her hair and started to play with it between her fingers, all while her body was rocking back and forth.

She shook her head and sighted in frustration. Her sigh sounded more like a whimper this time.

She expected somehow that hitting Maiev before will bring relief, but it did not.

She hoped that she will find answers, that Tyrande was going to solve their conflict somehow.

But, on the other hand Tyrande seemed to be on Maiev side. Even though she was a traitor, even though she let her comrades to die for a quest that was actually an obsession.

And things just did not make sense...No matter how hard she tried to understand, they just did not make any sense.

" A grand gesture. A public one. A sacrifice..."..."A sacrifice..." "A sacrifice..." Slowly, tears started to burn her eyes, and she shut her eyelids, pulling her hair harder, shaking her head, trying to stop the unavoidable stream of sadness.

She grunted, and tensing her arms, smashed her fists on the table in frustration.

The loud bang reverberated in the empty house. The sun rays from the window were lighting small dust particles that rose from the table, flying up. The light was casting a warm color on her clenched fists. She opened her eyes, and looked at her gloved hands.

A small white strand with blood on it was resting between her fingers. She did not even realize nor did it hurt when she pulled it. Then she noticed something that made her eyebrows lift and her jaw to drop slightly.

The metalic gloves had scratches from her fight with Maiev. She noticed that the metal was shiny, beautifully crafted, but the scratches were stretching from her knuckles almost to her wrist, like a knife tear in a beautiful painting...And it dawned on her.

They were not marks of a battle. They were memories of a fight that changed nothing. A fight born by rage, anger, frustration, resentment . A fight born and bred by those crawling monsters from a wounded soul that would never be satiated until their host dies.

She carefully removed her gloves, and looked at her bare hands.

Her knuckles were bloody, the skin was partially scratched, and apparently healing. She extended her fingers. The skin stretched and the small wounds stung. That felt good. She closed her fist again. It hurt once more. It was more than a pleasant sensation. It was a sign that she was alive, in this moment at least. She did not remember hitting Maiev with her fists before, and that thought scarred her. She was so lost in her anger that she was not rational in that moment. It felt like a dream.

But the wounds were there. Small, bloody, close to forming scabs. But painfully real. And just like the scratches on the glove, they looked stupid on her purple hand. There were wounds that changed nothing.

She slowly closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. With every inhale, she felt her heartbeat slower, calmer, the lump in her throat becoming less and less noticeable, her mind clearer. She slowly opened her eyes and with relaxed gestures, removed her faceguard and placed it on the table. She turned her head towards the window and closed her eyes. She let the sun rays to caress her face and for the first time in many years she did not hate the sensation.

And in that very second she knew.

She knew what to do, how to do it and when, the thought slowly dawning on her at amazing speed, and Kyra realized that she will remember this second for the rest of her life. As this was the moment when she tasted a second of peace with herself.

She opened her eyes and smiled. She felt that moment of peace warming her heart, bringing that relief that she expected to get from punching Maiev. She knew that her anger could not be satiated, not like this.

She rose up, and slowly ascended on the stairs towards her bedroom.

Once there, with gestures born out of habit she removed her armor, letting it rest on the ground. She opened the door to her closet, and started to look for something.

On a hanger, in the back of the closed, was a long, green silk dress.

She pulled the robe with shaking hands, and looked at it.

The dress was one designed for festivities, and she never got the chance to wear it. To her luck, it preserved itself perfectly. The fabric felt soft to her fingers , strange to her callous hands, used to being gloved in harsh material. It had small golden branches sown in a semicircle around the neckline and at the waist. She looked in the mirror, holding the dress close to her chest. It was barely passing her ankles, so the length was perfect for her taste. The color was not too strong, so she could easily blend in to the crowd at the Midsummer Festival.

"It's time for a change" she smiled to her reflection in the mirror.

The sun was his enemy that day. The heat was burning his skin, sending mercilessly wave after wave to whip at his exposed skin. The wound on his back hurt the most, as his armor stuck to it, dried blood and sweat mixing in a nasty smelling, foul concoction. He knew it's going to be painful to remove his armor, but shielding his wounds from the burning sun was the best decision for now. He had no more healing potions, and very little water. He had to be careful and calculated about using it.

He walked slowly, dragging his feet after himself. They never felt so heavy. The sweat from his body formed a shiny cover on his blue skin, and small drops were stinging his eyes. He wiped it with a shaking hand, but to no avail. A new stream of salty liquid soon took it's place, and he grunted. He could feel that some of his wounds started to smell, as they were not closing. This could attract predators very quick, so he had to move fast.

His regeneration ability was no use to him. He concluded that the spell that the cultist used to bore in his mind and soul might have interfered with the laws of nature, forcing his body in to a permanent decaying state. Traces of the foul hex were still residing in his body, he could feel it. Something unnatural was happening to him, painful, unavoidable... He dreaded it with his entire being. The more he rejected it, the more it was causing him pain.

The heat was getting more and more unbearable, it felt like a hot cape was draped around his shoulders at all times. His breathing became ragged and warm as he was trying to advance, step by step, calculated, careful on the dusty road. Each inhale was becoming shorter and each exhale sounded more and more like a shiver. He shook his head, as he felt his throat close, and the air seemingly thinning.

He realized that his stealth was unstable, and despite his best effort and concentration it kept fading on and off. He frowned his forehead trying to slip in to the shadows once more, but the effort was fruitless. His vision started to get blurry, his head started spinning, and he stumbled a couple of steps from side to side trying to regain his balance.

His right hand found the trunk of a tree and he used it for support, as nausea overwhelmed him. The shade that the overgrown sapling provided brought a momentary relief, the coolness of it contrasting pleasantly with the scorching of the sun.

His knees gave up, and he collapsed on the ground, hugging the bark, full frame leaning on it, resting his forehead on it's coarse surface. His breathing became erratic and sounded exhausted. He turned his face away from the tree, and sat with his back propped on the harsh wood. He tried to control his breathing, the wheezing hum of it coming from his chest sounded almost calming. He slowly started to feel drowsy, and unbeknown to him his eyelids began to close ever so gently.

He quickly opened his eyes, a flare of fear passing on his features. He shook his head, and quickly got up.

A shot of pain in his temples made him grunt, and he gritted his teeth. He lowered his gaze, as the road seemed to dance in front of his eyes, and with a loud growl, continued to walk, despite the dizziness that started to blur his vision.

Roh'khin knew he might not survive this time. His head was thumping, and the Horde outpost seemed nowhere in sight. The stealth was useless at this point, as he could not concentrate to keep it on. He could be an easy target for the large beasts that were populating the area, and , Loa forbid, some Alliance opportunist.

"Damn ya' Stonetalon... Damn ya'..." he muttered to himself "Dey say this be sacred site..." he added mockingly " This be a more fancy Barrens, nothin' more...With larger basilisks... And goblins that are nowhere ta be seen when ya' need them..." he shook his head.

He felt his sanity slipping away, as wave after wave of what it seemed like cold and hot flushes were traveling along his limbs. The Troll started to shiver, but continued to walk, as he very well knew – if he stopped, it will mean his death. And Loa be damned, it will not be today.

He looked around, and to his horror did not recognize the place. He knew for sure that he followed the road that would lead him to the Horde base...But he could've been walking in any direction now. He did not know which was the right direction.

He was lost.

His eyes widened in horror. A tiny voice in his mind, still held a ounce of sanity and was whispering to him that he was walking on the right path. But there was another voice, louder, more convincing, as that second voice was screaming in his mind that he was lost.

"Stop it!" he mumbled to himself, and cupped his temples with his hands..."Stop that..." he whispered, and he started, unbeknown to himself to stumble, zigzagging on the old road.

All of the sudden, he felt his knees weaken, and a strange tingling sensation spread through his arms and forehead.

"No...no no no no..."he mumbled again, gritting his teeth.

A new layer of sweat formed on his skin, as his legs were starting to become numb. He groaned, as he felt himself collapsing on the dirty road, without any resistance. He stumbled a couple of steps, trying to regain control, waving his hands in front of himself, trying to find something to grab on.

But there was nothing to hold on to. He collapsed on his side with a loud thump, arms and legs limp spread in the dirt, his large blue frame covering half of the old road.

Blood was slowly trickling from his open mouth, forming a small dark pool on the ground, mixing with the dust below. If it was not for his loud breathing, one may very well assume he was dead.

He tried to get up, planting his large hands on the ground. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead from the effort, but with a loud grunt he manage to get on all fours. In that position, cough overwhelmed him, as more blood was getting in his airways. He spat the red liquid, and inhaled greedily.

A low hiss on his left made his ears twitch.

"Basilisk...Damn ya' Stonetalon, ya' Loa forsaken place..." he thought to himself

He slowly turned his head towards the sound and saw the frame of a creature hiding in the bushes. He could distinctly tell it's features, the scaly skin covering his body, the grin of it's large toothy mouth. But it was not approaching. Not yet.

The beast sensed the smell of death in the air. It was waiting for it to happen. It knew that it did not stand a chance if the Troll was alive, so it waited to feast on his corpse. It's reptile eyes darted slowly from side to side, waiting for the rogue to give his final breath.

Roh'khin grinned. It will not give the creature this pleasure. He tensed his body and met the creature's hungry look. The basilisk hissed menacingly, and shifted ever so slightly closer, but not too close. The Troll slowly moved to a crouching stance, his eyes never leaving the creature. His right hand was numb, but his left hand was still functioning. He slowly reached for the hilt of one of his dagger.

He knew that this fight would be a deathmatch, and he inhaled, drawing his weapon, waiting for the opponent to make the first move. He will not die mauled by a filthy beast. He'd rather succumb to his injuries.

He inhaled and tensed once more.

All of the sudden, the creature's eyes darted from side to side, and instead of attacking, the basilisk hissed, and started to slowly retreat. The Troll starred at it, confused. The reptile snapped open his mouth, turned away and started to run towards the hills, in the opposite direction from the rogue.

He followed the creature with his gaze until it faded in the distance. Something has startled it, and it was not him. He smelled of death, he was not a threat. He removed his hand from the weapon, and exhaled in relief.

The froze mid breath.

His ears twitched again. He leaned with his ear on the dusty road, and touched the ground softly. He had to be sure. His blue fingers caressed the ground ever so lightly.

There it was. A soft, almost imperceptible ground shake. Small dust particles, invisible to the untrained eye were jumping rhythmically, up and down on the old dirty road. He looked up, his gaze concerned.

This sound scared the creature away. It was not willing to gamble it's life. This could mean his salvation. Or his doom.

He prayed that it was real and that his fevered mind was not playing nasty tricks on him. So he shook his head, exhaled, and touched the dirt one more time.

And he felt it again, closer this time. And clearer.

There was no doubt.

A rush of adrenaline made his vision clear for a split second, and his mind became lucid. He focused, and to his surprise, managed to get in to stealth. He summoned every ounce of strength that he had, and got up. His legs felt weak, but they could carry him for a while. He took a quick look around for a place to hide, or escape if the need will arise. He saw the bush where the creature hid before, took a few shaky steps to the side of the road towards the plant, and crouched behind it.

He felt his heart pumping loud, like it was ready to break his chest open. His breath was ragged and hot and a light shake was controlling his body. He tensed, and focused his gaze in the distance, summoning every ounce on strength he had left in his mauled body.

A light vibration on his chest. seemingly in sync with his heartbeats, made him jump slightly, and he looked at the source of it. He opened his mouth in awe as he saw the light vial that contained half of his soul slowly humming. It sounded like music and a small cry at the same time. He cupped it in his blue hand, and his it in his shirt. Close to the skin, the vial was burning, trying to perforate the ribcage and reunite with the rest of it, be whole again.

"Have patience...It will be ovah soon... I promise..."

The humming seemed to slowly die down, much to his surprise. He sighted in relief

In that moment, the thumping in the distance became louder, a sign that whoever was the source of it was closer now.

Thomp –thomp...Thomp –thomp...Thomp-thomp...Tribal, precise, heavy, alien to this deserted and silent place.

The Troll felt his head spin again, but he tried his best to keep his gaze focused. He will not succumb to this feeling, not when he was so close.

"Please don' be an Elekk..." he thought to himself .

The heat wave was making the distance seem more blurry, and it felt like he was holding his breath for a couple of seconds. Until...

A dust cloud arose in the distance, on the road, and the thumping became louder and clearer. And he was sure this time. A large mount was making the sound, his steps were too trained and too precise to be a wild animal . And it was on the main road, which meant it knew the paths.

He squinted his eyes, in order to distinguish the race and faction of the rider. The sun reflected on some metal that seemed to be the armor. He grunted in frustration and tried to see once more the face of the rider.

He saw a big set of horns, peacefully piercing the sky, adorned with feathers and baubles. Never in his life he felt more happy to see someone so shiny.

A Tauren.

He grinned . Soon the rider and the mount were close enough for him to see the majestic Kodo that was happily thumping on the road, sending dust clouds in all directions. His head started to spin again...

The stealth faded, as it was impossible for him to hold it any longer, so he crawled from his hiding place, and stood tall in the middle of the road. He shot his hands in the air, and he realized, stunned that no sound came out of it. He was unable to speak. He felt his mouth dry...His throat was closing, and he coughed again, suffocating. Small streams of blood were trickling down his chin, forcing him to release a guttural, gurgling, unnatural sound

He inhaled greedily, and shot his hands in the air in a desperate last gesture, as to attract the rider's attention. The rider was closer now, the Troll could see the plate armor, his face...

The rider was sleeping.

Roh'khin's eyes went wide in horror.

The Tauren was sleeping peacefully on top of his mount, the Kodo carrying his tired master on a known path.

The Troll realized that his only chance of surviving could simply pass right next to him, so he tensed his body once more. Shots of pain were biting at his flesh from different places, wounds new and old were making themselves known in this moment, his dizziness becoming close to nausea. It seemed like the air was thinner, as he was gasping more and more for it.

"Help...me...you...bull..." He thought, as the Kodo got close to him.

The animal looked at the Troll with his gentle eyes, and started to make a semicircle around it, as to avoid the obstacle. After all, his mission was to help it's master get home safely.

In that moment, the Troll did something that took him by surprise. He jumped on top of the Kodo, grasping with his weak arms at the saddle in which the Tauren was peacefully sleeping. He struggled to keep his grip, his arms bulging from the effort.

The surprised animal started to move from side to side, low rumbling from his scared bleating resonating in his giant body, trying to get the intruder off. The rogue's feet were dragged through the dirt, back and forth, as he could not muster the strength to lift his entire body on the saddle, no matter how hard he tried. The breathing became harder, and he felt his weakness slipping through the remaining drops of adrenaline. But he knew, if he gave up he would die. So the Troll kept his grip strong, grunting and cursing, his knuckles turning white, his nails digging deep into the leather of the saddle, as his body was mercilessly thrown from side to side.

All of the sudden, the Tauren's eyes opened, and for a split second, he looked confused at what the source of this disturbance might be, and tried to calm his animal, with soothing words in a half asleep voice.

The Troll saw his opening, and swinging one hand, grabbed the Tauren by his arm, his bloodied nails gripping at the rider's furry limb. And under the Tauren's shocked look, using his last bit of strength, uttered with his red painted mouth:

"Help...Me..."

He felt his grip weaker, and a new rush of heat overwhelmed him. Darkness came suddenly, and with one last hungry breath, it claimed him.